


soft you now, fair prince

by fab_ia



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: M/M, Royalty AU, also me: This., but also hamlet? lots of hamlet, its inspired by vlasdygoth's mcstunning prince jacobi art from like august, me: wow i should write my big bang fic...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 17:49:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12776241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fab_ia/pseuds/fab_ia
Summary: warren kepler, with his military past and his calm demeanour, is somehow also the man who rests a gentle hand in your hair where your crown usually rests, who presses a kiss to your forehead and says "ever the diplomat, my lord."





	soft you now, fair prince

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunderhavelton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunderhavelton/gifts).



oh, how your flesh would have remained unsullied and pure if not for his gentle touch, the caress of his hand on your cheek as you lean into the warmth of his fingers as though it were heat from the fireplace- how his lips are soft against yours as he pulls you close.

“goodnight, sweet prince,” he says every night as you lay back in the covers, spent and exhausted as his fingers trace intricate patterns on your bare chest. you smile- he's quoting shakespeare again, putting himself in the place of the loyal and devoted friend- lover- companion.

“goodnight, my stars,” you whisper in return, reaching up to brush a thumb along his jaw. the line of his mouth twitches upwards into a soft smile, and his eyes soften. is this love? it could be- it could _easily_ be, with your gentle embraces and barely-there kisses that you can't help but want more and more.

and your father is the king, his crown heavy and golden on his head, and you _are_ warren’s “sweet prince”, you suppose, when your younger sister weaves freshly picked flowers into your dark hair. alana, scholarly and yet childish, her mastery of language remarkable to both you and kepler whenever she decides to show it off.

“warren,” you say slowly one night, curled in the chair by your open window, “would it be frowned upon if, once my father dies, i were to say that sodomy was… alright?”

“my lord,” he says, “i don't know. it would depend on what the kingdom says- what your siblings and advisors say. remember that i am not exactly-”

“the best person to ask, i know.”

“your father lives yet, my lord.”

you sigh, and warren smiles a little at you in a way that seems almost sad. you wonder what he has to be sad about- then you remember, slowly, that this. relationship the two of you have, this is _wrong_ in the eyes of the court, it's _sinful_ and _shameful_ , and yet warren is so gentle and understanding with you that you'll never understand why they hate it so.

“warren,” against his skin you breathe it, “i love you.”

“my prince…” he trails off, pulling you tighter to him as he mumbles the last words, “i love you, too,” into the top of your hair.

  
your father does die, of course, and your coronation is a rush of crowns and military guards and embroidered robes that warren helps you take off after the event, after the feast, when the corset begins to become too tight. the worst thing is that you don't think you feel sad about your father’s death at all, which you tell warren as he helps you unlace the corset. he ignores it.

“you must be _careful_ ,” he tuts, rubbing small circles into the top of your spine as you arch into his touch. “it won't do us any good to have a prince who can hardly breathe for killing himself every day.”

“a cowardly option, warren,” you mumble.

“i'll get you a christian burial yet,” he teases.

you turn and kiss him, bare chested and with your skin looking pale in the moonlight that comes through the crack in the drapes on the window.

“my lord,” he gasps, “my prince, my- my- _daniel_.”

he curses in latin as he spends, and you swallow that with your hungry lips and your passionate desire, because he's gorgeous in the dim light (even with the candle that's almost burned down completely giving him a golden halo, making him angelic in the night).

but- dead king, new king, the new-king-whose-title-is-still-prince, the naïve prince with his personal knight-adviser kepler (beautiful warren). he keeps a hand on the back of your throne as you discuss trade with denmark and sweden. it's dull, mind-numbingly so, which is what made you leave for your tower anyway. he follows you, ever-attentive and loyal.

it's likely that warren worries because you never trained as a soldier with the other men, lingering too long at apothecaries instead and sitting with the court sorcerer in his wing of the castle as he worked. you were always clever, had a better eye for business than your father, and he despised you for it.

“i think,” you say one night in bed, “that you ought to be next in line for leader of the army.”

“my prince,” warren says, “no. offer me it and i shall refuse. it holds no appeal, not now.”

“now?”

“not after circumstance has allowed me to stay so close to you, my lord.”

“you're too formal, warren. you can relax, dearest, nobody is going to have you for treason if you call me ‘daniel’ while we’re alone.”

“i can call you a lot of things,” warren says as he runs his fingers through your hair. your head rests in his lap and you smile. “my love, my sun, my prince, my dearest… the most beautiful man i know.”

“flattery will get you nowhere when you're already this important to me,” you say, closing your eyes.

“sweet prince,” he says, “you're going to be perfect for this kingdom.”

“charming.”

“sweet prince,” warren says softly, so under his breath you don't know that you were ever meant to hear it, “you're perfect to me.”

**Author's Note:**

> http://vlasdygoth.tumblr.com/post/163737471721/look-i-love-king-and-lionheart-kepler-and-jacobi said beautiful art that inspired this, and as ever- if you enjoyed, i'm @sciencematter on tumblr


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